his death, or to the embrace of his beloved? The beams of the moon cannot read all that even mortals write. I look down on the flying clouds, from the silence of space above, and I see big clouds chasing across the earth."
THIRTY-THIRD EVENING
"I am very fond of children," said the moon; "the little ones especially are so amusing. I often peep at them through the curtains when they least think I see them. It is so amusing to see them trying to undress themselves; first, a little round naked shoulder appears out of the frock, then one arm slips out. Or I see a stocking pulled off a dimpled little leg, firm and round, and then comes out a little foot made to be kissed, and I kissed it," said the moon. "I must tell you what I saw to-night. I looked in at a window where the blind did not reach the bottom, for there were no opposite neighbours. I saw a whole flock of little ones, brothers and sisters. One little girl is only four years old, but she knows 'Our Father' as well as any of them, and her mother sits by her bed every evening to hear it. Then she kisses her and sits by her till she falls asleep, which generally happens as soon as she shuts her eyes.
"To-night the two eldest were rather wild; one of them hopped about on one leg in his long white nightgown. The second one stood on a chair with the clothes of all the others heaped upon him; he said it was a tableau, and they must guess what it meant. The third and fourth were putting their toys carefully away in a drawer, and, of course, that has to be done, but their mother said they must be quiet, for the little one was going to say her prayers. I peeped in over the lamp," said the moon. "The little four-year-old girl lay in bed among all the fine white linen, her little hands were folded, and her face quite grave and serious, and she began, 'Our Father,' aloud. 'But what is this,' said her mother, interrupting her
